


Friendship and Other Catastrophes

by Barkour



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Fluff, Future Fic, M/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2011-05-03
Updated: 2011-05-05
Packaged: 2017-10-18 22:58:02
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 3
Words: 1,267
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/194226
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Barkour/pseuds/Barkour
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A collection of short and silly pieces starring John Egbert, Esq., and Karkat Vantas, wanted in three counties for egregious misuse of the word "fuck" as an adjective.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Sunset and a Moonrise

**Author's Note:**

> It seemed silly to post these separately, so here you go.
> 
> The title for the first fic is derived from the song [Constellations](http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=9AOQ9jXC6iE) by Jack Johnson.

The new planet’s pretty weird. Water flowing up? What’s the deal with that? But it’s cool. It’s not blown up, at least.

Karkat complains about it, but that’s just Karkat.

“Doesn’t this goddamned death-star ever fucking set?”

“Ha ha, oh man, that reminds me!” John says. “You totally need to see Star Wars!”

He can definitely alchemize the shit out of Star Wars. That’s like a basic universal necessity. He tries to explain Star Wars to Karkat but Karkat just starts talking about how maybe if he stares into the sun long enough it’ll burn out his ears so he won’t have to listen to this inane puppetshow, which doesn’t even make sense, but Karkat’s looking kind of flushed or whatever it is trolls look like when they’ve been out in the sun too long so John says, “Maybe you should lay down.”

Karkat leans against him as they walk over to a tree growing quickly, quicker now, out of the splitting rocks of this new world, this empty planet growing green. Karkat doesn’t lean too hard, though, which is nice ‘cause sometimes John’s chest still hurts and right now it’s pinching, sort of.

The shadows beneath the tree are deep and cool and sweetly black, and one of (but not all) the lines between Karkat’s eyes eases, and he grumbles when John helps him and maybe he calls John a fuckass. John laughs.

The sun withdraws slowly. A dark pattern crosses Karkat’s face, where the lingering light of the sun peeks around the leaves. Time is weird here, too. He hopes they find the others soon. They’re here, he knows. Somewhere.

A breeze pulls at John’s hair, at his hood, at his shoulders; he feels the wind in his skin. He turns to it. The leaves rustle overhead, and the wind rushes over his skin, and Karkat rolls onto his side and curls so his thick, bony knees brush John’s hip. John’s chest pinches. He takes a breath; his ribs ease.

“Hey, Egbert,” Karkat whispers, “you colossal dipshit. Put your fat head down before you fall over and crush my pulmonary sac.”

“Hey, Vantas,” John says, “you jerkass. Normal people say, Why don’t you lie down?”

“Why don’t you go—” And Karkat does a very rude thing with his hands.

If John had not taken such magnanimous pity on Karkat, he would totally make a secret vow to prank the shit out of him in the near future. He vows anyway.

The breeze pushes at John, pushes him back; it runs against his chest. He lets the wind bring him low. Karkat’s breath touches his shoulder.

Karkat says, “We better find some fucking caves before my entire face melts off.”

“Definitely next on the list,” John says. “I mean, I’d hate for your entire face to melt off. Man, that would be so gross.”

“Shut up, idiot,” Karkat says. John guesses it says a lot about how far they’ve all come that it sounds a little sweet when Karkat says it like that, all grumbly like he’s clearing his throat.

John closes his eyes. The leaves whisper, and Karkat’s breath rattles softly. That goddamned death-star sinks lower, drifting to the horizon that juts up to meet the sky. The wind is singing, and it sings, hello, hello, welcome home, and in his sleep John smiles. He turns his head, chasing the song. Karkat breathes against his cheek. This small wind scrapes and hisses, but it’s warm as the day cools and the song is the same.

John dreams.


	2. Hug Harbor

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future fic.

But soft! What light through yonder window breaks? It is the East, and John is the colossal jackass bearing down on Karkat at roughly 22km/h, wind velocity 12kn, and prepped for a crash landing.

“Oh, shit, you better look out!” John shouts. “The hug plane is coming in strong!”

He doesn’t have time for prepared remarks; he has to improvise. Karkat picks door number one:

“What the fuck, Egbert, you unmitigated dipshit—”

“Vrrrrrroooow,” John says, his arms stretched out like the wings of the ugliest fucking bird. “Oh, man, Karkat, I don’t think I can stop it in time!”

Karkat dodges to the right — a wall! He’s trapped, trapped by the nonporous human architecture. “Your house is literally crafted from the foulest waste products ever excreted by the ass of hell!”

John laughs in delight. “Ha ha, what?”

Acceleration to 12.5kn. Impact imminent. Death is coming; he sees its wings. Nothing can save him now. Karkat sticks his fists up.

Like a goddamn cloud spun out of the orgasmal discharge of a thousand prancing unicorns, John envelopes Karkat. The floor is an unforgiving taskmaster. Karkat siezes to no avail; he claws at John’s scrawny chest.

Wheezing, John turns his head. His nose fits to Karkat’s jaw.

“Oh, man, can you even imagine a shit house?” His breath tickles Karkat’s ear. “That would be so gross. The grossest. The castle the king of grossness calls home.”

“What, do you want a crown?” Karkat attempts to sculpt the shape of it — he’s thinking an unsheathed bone bulge festooned with neon lights spelling out I’M A DICKBAG — but his hands catch on John.

John’s hoodie has rucked up. His sides are long and soft and bony, his ribs flexible, malleable in the way of human bones. The flesh between them sinks just slightly; it gives to Karkat’s thumbs.

“You should’ve seen your face,” John says. His hand is easy at Karkat’s hip. “One day I’m going to invent a time-traveling camera and that camera will go back in time to take a picture of your face at the exact moment when I thought you were going to wet your pants.”

“I hate you with every spiteful molecule of my being,” Karkat tells him.

“No,” John says happily, “you don’t.”


	3. Somehow, Babies

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Future fic! Like, whoa. Also: babies. I hope this won't be a problem.

“Ha ha, wow!” John said. “These are really ugly!”

“Fuck you, Egbert,” Karkat said. “It’s your clearly incompetent genetic material at work here.”

They considered the trio of grubs. One had rolled onto its back and now lay there, circling its tiny limbs helplessly.

“Are we supposed to—” John flipped his hand over.

“No, no,” Karkat said. “We have to let it figure out how to _fucking roll over_.”

They waited. Another of the grubs mouthed Karkat’s knee. Absently, he petted it.

John crouched before the beached grub. “Come on, little Venkman! You can do it!”

“What?” Karkat looked up. The grub at his knee had mysteriously migrated to his hands. “No. No. We are not naming our larvae in honor of your ridiculous Ghostbusters.”

“You’re right. We’d need four to complete the team.”

John threw him a look, all crossed eyes and furrowed lips.

“Are you coming on to me?” Karkat demanded. “With grubs wriggling in the room? I knew your idiocy was of cosmic proportions, but this, this really punctures the helium sac.”

“You know,” John said, inching closer, “I’m pretty sure we’ve got a bucket in the hall closet…”

Karkat recoiled, clasping the grub to his chest. He darkened; his neck worked.

“That is— the single most— disgusting—”

He scooped up the other two grubs into his arms as he spoke. Little Venkman squeaked.

“Of all the vile, profane—”

“Baby, come back!” John howled after him. “Any kind of fool could see! There was something in everything about you!”

“FUCK YOU,” Karkat shouted. He kicked the door open, his arms full of baby, and the badass yet tender intensity of that gesture echoed throughout the universe. Then he was gone, gone forever.

John collapsed tragically onto the floor in his wake.

Man, though. Those grubs were u-u-ugly.


End file.
